


Little Monsters

by ChloeWinchester



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Shota, Shota!Jim, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3657714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWinchester/pseuds/ChloeWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Attending a masquerade while Sherlock hunts a killer within the party John meets a surprising little boy named Jim, who is certainly more than he seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Monsters

Outside in the freezing night, John felt ridiculous. Sherlock had convinced him to wear this masked ensemble as part of whatever game this was. A costume party for Halloween, Jack-o-lanterns gleamed from every elegant bannister, vats of apples adorned a corner or two, tall candelabras lined with black ribbon that matched the chandeliers hung in the vast ballroom. The lights were dimmer than they would usually be, the moon full and basking through the French doors that led to the terrace and the tall windows around the room.

Sherlock had mingled into the crowd in search of the killer in a nasty string of murders. All the victims drained of blood, all patrons of brothels or owners of them. None of them were particularly missed but Sherlock had been called regardless.

The attendees of this party were important enough to attract the attention of not only Detective Inspector Lestrade, but Mycroft Holmes as well. John wondered, standing in the doorway of the terrace, if the elder Holmes had something to do with these deaths himself. He wouldn’t put it past the government to do something like that, but it wasn’t his place to ask questions.

He peeked at his phone to check the time. Cor, it’d only been half an hour and he was already bored. Sure dancing with that blonde woman had been fun for a moment, and the few other girls he’d spoken to in soft little breaths in their ears had been amusing, but his heart wasn’t in it. Perhaps Sherlock’s sensitivity to things being dull was rubbing off on him.

He sighed and stepped out fully onto the terrace, away from the heavy air filled with cigar smoke, heat and the musk of liquor. Approaching the steps to the garden, he discovered he wasn’t alone.

A slender, pale boy was leaning against the rail in elaborate clothes. Late nineteenth century, it appeared to him, from the spiderweb embroidered stockings to the coat cinched tight around his form. Looking closer, John realized it was a corset. Black lace over a deep red  that fit him so elegantly. If this had been any other setting he would look out of place but not now. Now the red Colombina mask around his eyes trimmed with that same black lace and the little devil horns in his raven hair was…well it was…something John didn’t want to admit.

And this was before he saw the child’s entire face. Hearing John approach the child turned, casting brandy colored eyes onto John’s form, and suddenly John felt underdressed and out of place. His own silver and blue mask made his eyes pop and his hair glow, which is what caught the boy’s attention most.

John was close enough now that a blush was as noticeable as the spiders shadowed in the lace of the child’s costume, a tiny silver pitchfork in the red broach keeping the black scarf on his throat in place. The child was elegant, captivating.

The boy gave the softest of smirks and gave a little bow of his head before looking out at the garden again.

Jesus, he can’t be more than ten and he’s looking at me like that…

He reckoned there was a certain place in Hell for thoughts like that.

“Bored with all that, then?” He asked in an adult, paternal sort of way. The boy sighed and nodded. “Yeah, adults will do that. Be boring. Suppose there’s no one here your age, either.”

The boy shook his head and looked at John again, the moonlight only doing his skin favors. John felt nervous again for reasons he wasn’t sure of. It was unease, yes, but why? It bordered on fear, but there was nothing frightening about this child. Was there?

“What’s your name?” The boy asked, his voice soft, lilting with dulcet Irish tones and John had goosebumps.

“John,” he said, perfectly alright outwardly. “Dr. John Watson. And you are?”

“James Moriarty,” he said with another little bow that John felt obligated to return. “I am bored,” he sighed. “All of the people I’ve danced with are boring. Amateurs and babbling imbeciles. Such rotten things too. You can almost smell their insides.” He broke into giggles and John smiled.

“I think you’d get along with my colleague. I’m sure he thinks much of the same thing,” he chuckled. James cocked his head.

“Colleague? Oh that man you came in with.” John nodded. “I thought, perhaps he was…”

“No, no. Despite everyone thinking the opposite we’re not-” He didn’t finish the sentence, pursing his lips and shaking his head. James made it hard to concentrate, particularly when he was trying to pay attention to how his eyelashes brushed the mask when he blinked.

“Hm.” Was all the boy said, putting a hand on John’s arm. John cleared his throat.

“Where’s your mum?” He asked, looking around as if he’d find her.

“Gone,” he explained. “I’m here alone.” John frowned.

“She just left you here?”

“I don’t live far,” James explained. “I thought I would stay awhile. See if there was anyone here worth speaking to.” He smiled at John. “Looks like it paid off.”

John laughed a little, very aware of the weight of James’ hand.

A new song began inside and James looked toward the ballroom. “Would you dance with me, Dr. Watson?” He asked, offering his own arm.

John smiled another warm, adult like smile. “Of course.”

Dancing with the boy was sweet, particularly when there were no women free and no girls this boy’s age he could occupy himself with. What harm could it do?

Oh how graceful the child was. In the glow of the mock-candles of the chandelier above their heads Jim’s eyes burned so much they nearly matched his costume. John danced with him, one hand on his corseted waist he forced to keep still.

Around and around the floor they went with such ease, their eyes locked and though the room was crowded and loud he heard every word the child spoke clear as day.

“What brings you here, Dr. Watson?” He asked. John chuckled.

“My colleague’s brother got us in,” he explained.

“Interesting, but why are you here?” He repeated.

“I…I’m not sure what you mean?” John frowned. James gave another bubbly laugh, grinning at him.

“You just don’t seem like the party type, is all, Dr. Watson,” he explained. John cocked a brow at him.

“Don’t I?” He asked, subconsciously pulling the boy closer to him as they waltzed around. James continued to look at him expectantly. “Maybe I was just…waiting to see if I’d meet someone interesting too. Make a friend.”

James cocked his head. “Am I a friend already, Dr. Watson?” He asked in that quiet, alluring voice of his. John felt as if he were moving in a haze where nothing existed but him and the boy. It was strange and again he felt that unease, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight it.

“I suppose you are. I’ve talked to you the longest out of everyone here, anyway,” he chortled.

“So, I’m special then?” James whispered, a blush in his pale cheeks. John found it hard to breathe.

“James, I think you already knew that.”

They danced for hours together, the rest of the party ignoring them, including Sherlock which was no surprise to John. They talked and talked and John was absolutely enamored with this well read, beautifully spoken, enchanting boy. He was smitten, even, and Jim -as he asked John to call him- only grew more friendly as time went on.

He coaxed a few glasses of wine into him and even a whiskey or two, loosening John’s tongue and his inhibitions. The rest of the party was dwindling on sin and debauchery anyway, so what did it matter? It was Halloween, where dark things happened anyway, wasn’t it?

James’ little lithe fingers were toying with the silver buttons on John’s blue coat, apparently looking at the engraving on them but there was a playful glint in his eyes. A goading, a dare.

John was ready to take it.

In the heat of the room, seated on a couch with him, Jim had taken the scarf from his neck and the jacked from his shoulders, leaving them bare with only the corset wrapping him up. John swallowed, staring at him. Jim plucked a button open.

“Dr. Watson, it might…be cooler upstairs,” he offered with those large eyes and innocent voice. “You’re so flushed I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” His demure expression was heightened with a bite of his lower lip, lips so pink and ripe and under this spell of liquor and ecstasy he wasn’t sure if he could resist picking this fruit.

He let his hand brush against his stocking clad thigh and stood. “I think you’re right.”

Jim’s eyes glittered.

He led the man upstairs and into a spare bedroom before anyone could possibly notice, locking it behind him.

John’s brow quirked in question.

“You know why I locked it,” Jim stated. John didn’t argue.

Instead he lifted the child off the floor and into his arms, pressing him against the door and kissing him. Oh, he was just a child, a baby… But those looks and how his little voice cooed and whined for more, the way his legs parted and wrapped around John’s waist there was no mistaking what this boy wanted.

So lithe, lean and soft. Forgetting about Sherlock, forgetting about the case and everyone that wasn’t this charming boy who gasped his name so prettily, John kissed down his throat and over his naked shoulders.

“Do you want me bare for you, Dr. Watson?” James whispered, his eyes brightening, shining red and this time the light had nothing to do with it. John nodded, glancing at him only to be drawn in further. “You want to fuck me, don’t you?” James asked, parting his lips to reveal sharp fangs. His mouth steadily approached John’s neck. “It’s been so long since anyone’s really fucked me properly. Do you think you can?”

John let out a growl and turned suddenly, Jim’s fangs just brushing his skin without being able to sink into flesh. He pressed the boy down against the bed and started unraveling the corset.

“I think you know I can, James,” he said softly, practiced, deft hands caressing creamy thighs and leaving the garters in their place. He dropped his mouth to kiss the newly uncovered skin, corset on the floor.

Jim gave a soft little giggle, arching his body so his trousers could come off, knickers that matched his stockings on his hips. John groaned and attached his mouth to the sheer, his own shirt falling with the rest of the unnecessary garments.

James’ breath hitched, black nails digging into John’s shoulders, his mission forgotten for the moment.

So attentive, so…rewarding. James moaned without shame, shuddering when John pulled the knickers aside to lap at his sac and suck on the joint of his groin and his thigh. He trembled with pleasure, falling into his own haze.

Under James’ influence or not, John never left his. The boy was intoxicating and he was drunk on him. He never wanted this to stop.

Jim sat up while John diligently suckled and kissed and licked his genitals, turning his own attention to John’s neck. John’s finger circled his pink little muscle, blue eyes blown wide behind his mask.

He pulled John’s chin up with two fingers, beckoning him closer and immediately began to kiss his neck. He sucked at his skin, tweaking and tugging on his nipples to mask the pain of his bite for just a moment.

The doctor shuddered, his eyes going wide in sudden fear. He could feel his blood leaving him and going into Jim’s mouth, he could feel the sharpness of his teeth and the chuckle the boy gave when he broke off gave him chills.

“What…what are you?” He gasped, looking into the eyes of the child whose lips were painted with his blood. The boy grinned and suddenly rolled them with inhuman abilities. Naked on top of him he cocked his head, grinning.

His fangs were pink, his mask still in place along with the horns. “What do you think?” He growled. John’s clothes came apart under the child’s hands with such ease. Jim giggled happily.

“Look how big your cock is…” He smirked, snaking down far enough to let his fangs graze his weeping head. “Oh, I’m going to feed on you forever,” he crooned, biting his hip and taking a deep drink.

John cried out at the burn Jim’s teeth left, but his cock twitched with it. He panted, torn between his desire for the pale and sure child and his fear of what would become of him.

James sank teeth into his throat again while guiding John’s cock into him, and John realized with the first roll of the baby’s hips that he didn’t care.

Jim fucked himself down on John’s cock, flesh made warm with John’s blood. “Oh, you’re so much different than the others….” He purred. “They were horrible men who deserved to die. They tasted so terrible.” He cut John’s lip open and sucked blood from it, listening to the doctor whimper. He grinned. “I’ll keep you, though.”

He rolled his hips again, throwing his head back. “Oh, I’ll keep you!”

All Sherlock ever found of John was his mask and his tattered clothes.

No one ever figured out who the child that was with him could possibly be.

No one heard the cries of ecstasy and devotion John bestowed on the child.

No one could ever know how much Jim loved his new toy.


End file.
